


who you are

by sharkle



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Comfort/Family, F/M, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-11
Updated: 2010-08-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 13:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkle/pseuds/sharkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are, Draco."</p>
            </blockquote>





	who you are

Draco sits quietly, his hands in his lap, as his mother fusses about, waving her arms around and pacing: something quite unlike her. His brow is furrowed, his breathing is shallow, and his stomach is clenched.

"You don't have to do this, Draco," implores Narcissa, coming to a stop in front of him. Cheeks slightly sunken and pale, eyes glimmering with unshed tears, she looks almost elderly except for her flawless skin. She stares down at her son for but a moment, trembling all over, before resuming her circuit.

"Mother," he says, in barely more than a mumble, and then, louder, "Mother," and she stops mid-stride. He stands, takes her hands – freezing cold, and not much warmer than his own – and looks her full in the face. He's taller than her now; as she finally succumbs to her sobs, he can put his arms around her and easily rest his chin atop her head. The words she cries into his chest are, for the most part, incomprehensible. He only catches, "...don't want… mistake… going… love…" and then she breaks down completely, nothing getting through her cries.

Draco rubs her back awkwardly. Eventually, her wails die down, and he feels comfortable enough to say, "I have to."

Narcissa pulls away, staring at him. Inexplicably, impossibly, a watery smile unfurls on her mouth, and she caresses his cheek. He shivers at her touch.

"You are so like Lucius," she whispers, her voice catching on her husband's name. Draco winces, just a little. Her smile wavers, and she goes on, "No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are, Draco." With a hand over his heart, "Here."

He swallows and blinks hard. He's sixteen years old, he shouldn't be crying. Yet his throat feels as though it's on fire, and his vision is already blurred: He buries his face in his mother's long blonde hair – the same as his – and sucks in a deep, sharp breath, hugging her more tightly to him.

He has to.

* * *


End file.
